


Paradise in a bubble

by Fawkespryde



Category: TwitchRP
Genre: A story told from pauls perspective, Basically the apocalyptic setting from the movie Appleseed, Explosions, Gang Violence, M/M, Paul being a badass, The Axis of Evil, The Brotherhood - Freeform, Twitchrp setting, gunfire, post apocalyptic setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28846023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fawkespryde/pseuds/Fawkespryde
Summary: “I thought… We thought you were dead. This whole time- What are you even doing out here?”“It’s a long story and I'd rather not remember why I'm out here." He looked wistfully into the distance. Once upon a lifetime ago, that beautiful gem sitting on the water used to be Paul’s home. It was like a shining jewel, standing untouched in the center of mass destruction and territorial genocide.***Post apocalyptic AU featuring Forester being a badass and the Axis of Evil being a bunch of lawless gremlins.
Relationships: Calvin Chaos/Paul Forester, More couples to be added - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	Paradise in a bubble

**Author's Note:**

> I am so nervous putting this up as it has been forever since I did any writing for trp. Don't get me wrong, I freaking love the content. I love seeing all the art and stories. I just have a hard time keeping track of all the characters and plots. So I apologize if this is really out of character.
> 
> To explain the reasoning for this, I watched the anime Appleseed and was inspired by the idea of an apocalyptic setting where there's a city protected by a wall like bubble and everyone living within has no idea of the war taking place outside its walls. I thought it would make a wicked storyline.

Paul watched from the safety of a nearby roof as the ground rumbled from the heft of a large vehicle incoming down the road. Loose rock and gravel stirred on the cracked concrete roads and the heavy silence of the surrounding city block was disturbed by engines gradually picking up speed. The three pickup trucks progressed at a leisurely pace down the ruined roads, their cargo was heavy and lurched against their bindings at a particularly hard bump despite being tied down by crisscrossing lines of rope.

Three people per truck. Three drivers, six gunmen. 

The route they were taking was the same one they took every single week. After all the chaos that befell Los Santos, it was interesting to see how quickly others were willing to fall back into routine and repetition. This little group liked to call themselves the Brotherhood. They wore red clothing and all had the same weapon holster around their left thigh. Despite being one of the smaller gangs left in the city, they had persevered through all the fighting and stuck a claim in this neighbourhood, spraying their tags all over the walls and setting up barricades to enclose their new territory. Little Seoul used to be home to the thousands of working class citizens of Los Santos but now, it was nothing but hollowed out buildings and upturned trucks making up barricades and walling off the nearby highway.

This used to be a nice neighbourhood. Paul can almost see the way it used to look when he closed his eyes. He remembered driving around the small suburban roads just watching people rushing to do their daily routines and get to work. All around him, life had carried on. Then he’d open his eyes again and it would all be smoke and rubble. The reality of the present almost giving him whiplash from how heavily it set itself upon his shoulders again.

With gritted teeth, Paul flicked the protective cap off the handheld detonator and held it up in front of him, counting down the seconds till the trucks were in position. The cloth he had tied to a nearby signpost acted as his marker and the charges he placed were for the most part, in positions that would make for a more controlled explosion. There was no sense in destroying this convoy and weakening the Brotherhood’s hold on the neighbourhood if he destroyed any nearby structures as well. He at least wanted there to be a possibility of people being able to move back in and clear away the rubble to start anew.

The first truck passed by without issue. The gunman perched on top of the covered crates, too distracted with what looked to be some sort of old crossword book in his hands to take note of anything different in their territory. To the red bandana wearing man, this was just another boring day of looting and thievery. The truck bumped over a large crack in the asphalt and continued on after the marked signpost. The second followed in tow at the same pace for several feet but slowed up as it came closer to where he had set the charges of c4. There was someone leaning out the front seat and indicating over to something square and taped to a nearby fractured powerbox and Paul’s heart felt like stone. Apparently he didn’t do a very good job of hiding all the charges. Luckily for him though, the truck had pulled to a stop at just the right placement. Right over the weakening asphalt of the well worn street. Right where the construction in the sewer system had been taking place before the fighting had started.

With a flick of the switch, there was a resound beep followed by each charge systematically going off around the convoy of vehicles. Smoke billowed up into the air and turned the area into a dusty smokescreen that hid everything from view for several heavy seconds. Paul didn’t need to see through the cloud to know that he had succeeded. The sound of crumbling concrete and rock was all the proof he needed to know that the trucks had collapsed into the sewers underground that had fallen into disrepair after being abandoned by its workers. Tires screeched loudly and the sound of distraught yelling picked up and once the dust settled, he could see the two trucks in various states of destruction. The middle one missing from where it had disappeared down the hole.

Forester wiped the sweat from his brow and got up from his safe position on the roof, scuttering over to the metal ladder that was just barely clinging onto the building for dear life. It was rusted and stung his palms as he quickly took the rungs two at a time to hasten up the travel back to the ground. Once his boots hit concrete, he ducked behind the broken down structure. He could see the gunmen in various pieces of salvaged equipment painted bright red to represent their allegiance to the Brotherhood. Two had managed to escape the collapsed vehicles and were now patrolling with semi automatic rifles. His fingers drummed at his side in nervous trepidation over the holster where his knife was stored. The leather was worn from years of use. In this uncertain time of insanity and constant fighting with locals and bandits, it was the one thing he knew he could rely on. It was always there when he needed it most and had seen almost as much as his war weary eyes have.

The crumbling wall next to him drew the attention of one of the damned Brotherhood bastards or whatever they were calling themselves these days. The gangs in the area were all the same to him. They wore different colours but totted the same weaponry and held themselves with the same confidence of a group of low lives that had congregated under some loose semblance of leadership. Like roaches, one or two were no issue but hundreds and suddenly, you’re dealing with an infestation. Forester pressed his back to the crumbling wall, the edges of stone pressed into his spine uncomfortably but served as a reminder that despite being deep in Brotherhood territory, he was still alive and breathing. They didn’t catch him earlier when he broke their hastily built wall that bordered the territory between the Brotherhood and the Greens and he wasn’t about to get caught now for collapsing their weapon supply truck into the ground where their supplies were now unsalvageable. 

Paul held his breath to try and steady his nerves at the sound of grunting and shuffling cobblestone. The rest had given up on trying to dig up the truck and took off for safety but a few remained behind, determined to try and retrieve anything from their stolen goods. The Brotherhood knew that they had to act fast before the explosion drew in more gangs who would undoubtedly dive on them like vultures to a carcass. There was always a bigger fish in these waters. His heart beat heavily in his ribcage, the hand at his side sliding up to draw the worn down hunting knife strapped to his holster. He heard the footsteps get closer and knew from the way they stopped that they had found their other fallen comrade, a lone patrolling gang member from earlier that he couldn’t quite hide in time before he started to set up the explosions. His teeth grit and he pushed off the crumbled mortar wall without a chance to second guess himself.

The man barely got a gurgle out before the blade cut his life short with a forward thrust. Forester felt the hot spray of blood go over his bare arms and he fought to get the body to the ground, diving just as bullets fired in his direction. The ricochete sent debris scattering over head and dust filled the air as bullets tore into mortar and concrete without mercy. He landed hard on the now dead raider and eyed the gun harness on his chest, grappling the snubnose and rolling on his back to fire back without thinking. His shots, despite being mostly blind hipfire, were on point and hit the woman who was in the middle of reloading her automatic rifle. Forester rotated his aim as two more people clamored over a crumbled heap of metal fencing. He heard the sound of boots on metal and rolled once more to get off the corpse he had taken cover on.

He had no idea how much ammo the gun had and from how quickly weapons were being raised at him, he didn’t have time to check. It was all or nothing and Forester never considered himself a man of god but even he was willing to believe in a higher power if it tipped the scales to his favour even by a little bit. With a silent prayer and a deep breath, he fired and hoped that his aim was true and that he wouldn’t hear that tell tale clicking noise of the gun being empty. The gun recoiled as he fired and took down the last two Brotherhood members. Their bodies stumbled forward with the momentum of their running before falling into two unmoving heaps on the ground. Once they were dead and the sound of opposing gunfire stopped, Paul ducked back into cover and strained his ears for any hints that anyone survived. There was nothing but silence though and it was deafening, especially after the quick brush of action that had his adrenaline throbbing heavy in his chest. His heart was racing and his pulse was so loud he had to take several breaths to compose himself. 

Paul crawled out from behind the crumbled exterior of what used to be a flower shop and pushed himself back to his feet. He grimaced down at the painful reddening of his arm from where he had landed on it in his desperate motion to get out of the way of gun fire. He was definitely going to be feeling sore for the next few days but alas, that was the price for being alive. Every ache, every bruise reminded him that he was still breathing. In this world that had quite literally gone to hell in the span of a few yeas, he was still alive and kicking. Paul pulled out a torn bandana from the back pocket of his jeans and flicked it before him. It was stained and grimy now, no longer the stark white and black colour it started as but in this situation, it’d have to do. He took a moment to collect himself and wipe down the dirt and blood from his face and neck before it dried and caked over his body. Clean water was a hot commodity nowadays. People killed for less than a canteen of it and using it to just clean off his face was such a waste.

He was in the middle of patting down the Brotherhood member next to him in case he had anything worth taking when he felt the ground vibrate under his knee. Glancing up confirmed his suspicion as he saw two atv’s coming down the road towards him and the destroyed convoy. He sheathed the knife back in its holster and quickly grabbed what looked to be a salvaged p90 nearby, eying the ‘evidence’ tag still tied to the barrel. Paul clicked his tongue in irritation. Looks like the Brotherhood raided the evidence locker within the old police precinct. 

The sound of the vehicles got louder as they quickly closed distance, easily overcoming the crumbling roads and destroyed vehicles on their small quads. The light caught the glint of freshly sprayed paint and Forester saw red. His pulse picked up and panic coursed through his veins as he recognized the paint job. Red but not bright red and noisy like the shade the Brotherhood used. It was the darker cherry colour that was equally paired up with the logo that covered the hood of each vehicle that helped identify this scouting group that came to investigate the destroyed vehicle.

The Axis of Evil.

Paul was torn between making a run for it and risking being spotted or staying put and being caught red handed surrounded by bodies. If he ran, the vehicles would easily be able to close the distance and he really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of a golf club once they inevitably caught up with him. The Axis could be merciless when they wanted to be and he doubted they’d let him go after the times he sabotaged their equipment runs as well. He was certain that their leader was still sore over the loss of his ‘evil mobile’ when he blew it sky high with a stick of dynamite in the exhaust pipe. On that note, maybe running was better than sticking around. He’d be better taking his chances within the concrete jungle of Little Seoul and hope that he finds a confinement tight enough that their vehicles wouldn’t be able to give chase.

Lowering his body as close to the ground as he could possibly get, the gravel beneath his forearms biting into his skin as he began the slow slinking process of crawling behind the building he was using as cover. He had to forgo the gun he found to speed up the process and managed to slip into a slight decline in the ground that used to lead to an underground garage. Paul pushed himself back into the shadows of the ramp and evened out his breathing as best as he could under the circumstances. Straining his ears, he heard the groan of metal being crushed and the impact of tires landing on the ground a second later, followed by a long impressed whistle.

“Damn, you got some serious air there.” One of the Axis member crowed out over the roar of his engine. There was a resounding revv in response and the atv came closer to his hiding spot. Paul held his breath as it went by him at a steady pace, the driver not noticing him as his attention was elsewhere. “Anything on that side of the wreckage?”

There was a long heartbeat of silence before another voice shouted back. “Nah, lot of dead boys here but it looks like the trucks got blown to bits. Nothing much to speak of- Oh, wait… Haaaaaang on.”

The engines were cut and the quiet was disturbed only by the occasional sound of rubble being shifted around. There was a heavy thud as something was tossed onto the ground and slid across the gravel with a scrape. “There’s an ak in the front seat here. An adorable looking pistol and.. An uzi? Looks like it’s mostly guns but no ammo.”

“Trash, trash and trash.” The other responded in a muffled tone to his each one that he listed off. “No point in bringing more gun home if we lack the ammo. It’ll just take up more room.”

“Well, we have to bring something back or the Commander’ll have our heads.. Oh! I got a crate here that’s mostly intact. Says ‘military grade flares’ on the side.”

The Axis member near Paul’s hiding spot made a humming noise as if in contemplation and the scuff of rubber on stone followed by a ting of metal led him to believe the other was now just kicking rocks around. “Good enough. Pack it up and grab anything else of use that you can fit in your backpack. I don’t want to be out here any longer than I have to.”

“You’re just saying that cause your duty free tomorrow.”

“Yeah, and who has patrols for the rest of the week because they decided to be an idiot and leave the Commander’s car unwatched? You’re lucky he didn’t shoot you for that.” The first man took two steps backwards and Paul caught sight of him clearly for the first time. The small red indications on his jumpsuit was the only bit of colour he had on him to signal he was apart of the Axis. Well, that and the fact he was wearing a large rusty coloured mask with a squid face. The man had a machete strapped to his waist and a nastly looking rifle strapped to his back. The suppressor on it was almost as long as his forearm and had ‘catfish’ sprayed messily along the stock. Paul could almost swear that he had seen this man before but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. “Seriously Jason, how the hell you’ve managed to remain alive so far is beyond me.”

“Because I’m cute, that’s why.”

Paul watched the masked man veer to the left suddenly, ducking just enough for a rock to go sailing past him. He retorted with a middle finger aimed back and a huffing laughter that sounded muffled behind the face covering. “Whatever man. Just grab the flares so we can head back. I’m on chef duty tonight and I doubt we want the Commander to be angry AND hungry.”

The man stepped out of sight and his engine started back up a second later. The atv drove a bit down the road and slowed to a crawl, doing slow circles as he waited to be joined up with Jason. Once both atv’s were lined up, Paul could see the crate tied haphazardly to the back of Jason’s. The man seemed to care very little about the way it bounced when he hit a bump, more focused on adjusting his hair in the side mirror of his quad bike. He had a pair of sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose and was wearing a mostly clean puffy jacket that was brightly coloured and stood out in stark contrast to the dark paint job on his atv.

“I swear to god Abe if you say that for dinner, we’re having-”

Abe revved up next to him and his mask turned to face his fellow Axis member. The way his head was tilted to the side gave off the impression that he was grinning. “We’re having fish.” He answered in a happy, chipper tone and took off down the street before any argument could break out between the two of them.

“Dammit Abe! We’ve had nothing but fish for the past month. Can’t you catch a deer or something for once?” Jason screeched after him, pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose before taking off himself. The two of them continued down the road uninterrupted before they took a sharp corner and disappeared from Paul’s view.


End file.
